7--The Morning and the Evening of a Day

The wedding morning came. Nobody would have imagined from appearancesthat Blooms-End had any interest in Mistover that day. A solemnstillness prevailed around the house of Clym's mother, and there was nomore animation indoors. Mrs. Yeobright, who had declined to attend theceremony, sat by the breakfast table in the old room which communicatedimmediately with the porch, her eyes listlessly directed towards theopen door. It was the room in which, six months earlier, the merryChristmas party had met, to which Eustacia came secretly and as astranger. The only living thing that entered now was a sparrow; andseeing no movements to cause alarm, he hopped boldly round theroom, endeavoured to go out by the window, and fluttered among thepot-flowers. This roused the lonely sitter, who got up, released thebird, and went to the door. She was expecting Thomasin, who had writtenthe night before to state that the time had come when she would wish tohave the money and that she would if possible call this day.

Yet Thomasin occupied Mrs. Yeobright's thoughts but slightly as shelooked up the valley of the heath, alive with butterflies, and withgrasshoppers whose husky noises on every side formed a whispered chorus.A domestic drama, for which the preparations were now being made a mileor two off, was but little less vividly present to her eyes than ifenacted before her. She tried to dismiss the vision, and walked aboutthe garden plot; but her eyes ever and anon sought out the directionof the parish church to which Mistover belonged, and her excited fancyclove the hills which divided the building from her eyes. The morningwore away. Eleven o'clock struck--could it be that the wedding wasthen in progress? It must be so. She went on imagining the scene atthe church, which he had by this time approached with his bride. Shepictured the little group of children by the gate as the pony carriagedrove up in which, as Thomasin had learnt, they were going to performthe short journey. Then she saw them enter and proceed to the chanceland kneel; and the service seemed to go on.

She covered her face with her hands. ”O, it is a mistake!” she groaned.”And he will rue it some day, and think of me!”

While she remained thus, overcome by her forebodings, the old clockindoors whizzed forth twelve strokes. Soon after, faint sounds floatedto her ear from afar over the hills. The breeze came from that quarter,and it had brought with it the notes of distant bells, gaily startingoff in a peal: one, two, three, four, five. The ringers at East Egdonwere announcing the nuptials of Eustacia and her son.

”Then it is over,” she murmured. ”Well, well! and life too will be oversoon. And why should I go on scalding my face like this? Cry about onething in life, cry about all; one thread runs through the whole piece.And yet we say, 'a time to laugh!'”

Towards evening Wildeve came. Since Thomasin's marriage Mrs. Yeobrighthad shown him that grim friendliness which at last arises in all suchcases of undesired affinity. The vision of what ought to have beenis thrown aside in sheer weariness, and browbeaten human endeavourlistlessly makes the best of the fact that is. Wildeve, to do himjustice, had behaved very courteously to his wife's aunt; and it waswith no surprise that she saw him enter now.

”Thomasin has not been able to come, as she promised to do,” he repliedto her inquiry, which had been anxious, for she knew that her niece wasbadly in want of money. ”The captain came down last night andpersonally pressed her to join them today. So, not to be unpleasant,she determined to go. They fetched her in the pony-chaise, and aregoing to bring her back.”

”Then it is done,” said Mrs. Yeobright. ”Have they gone to their newhome?”

”I don't know. I have had no news from Mistover since Thomasin left togo.”

”You did not go with her?” said she, as if there might be good reasonswhy.

”I could not,” said Wildeve, reddening slightly. ”We could not bothleave the house; it was rather a busy morning, on account of AngleburyGreat Market. I believe you have something to give to Thomasin? If youlike, I will take it.”

Mrs. Yeobright hesitated, and wondered if Wildeve knew what thesomething was. ”Did she tell you of this?” she inquired.

”Not particularly. She casually dropped a remark about having arrangedto fetch some article or other.”

”It is hardly necessary to send it. She can have it whenever she choosesto come.”

”That won't be yet. In the present state of her health she must not goon walking so much as she has done.” He added, with a faint twang ofsarcasm, ”What wonderful thing is it that I cannot be trusted to take?”

”Nothing worth troubling you with.”

”One would think you doubted my honesty,” he said, with a laugh, thoughhis colour rose in a quick resentfulness frequent with him.

”You need think no such thing,” said she drily. ”It is simply that I,in common with the rest of the world, feel that there are certain thingswhich had better be done by certain people than by others.”

”As you like, as you like,” said Wildeve laconically. ”It is not wortharguing about. Well, I think I must turn homeward again, as the inn mustnot be left long in charge of the lad and the maid only.”

He went his way, his farewell being scarcely so courteous as hisgreeting. But Mrs. Yeobright knew him thoroughly by this time, and tooklittle notice of his manner, good or bad.

When Wildeve was gone Mrs. Yeobright stood and considered what would bethe best course to adopt with regard to the guineas, which she had notliked to entrust to Wildeve. It was hardly credible that Thomasin hadtold him to ask for them, when the necessity for them had arisenfrom the difficulty of obtaining money at his hands. At the same timeThomasin really wanted them, and might be unable to come to Blooms-Endfor another week at least. To take or send the money to her at the innwould be impolite, since Wildeve would pretty surely be present, orwould discover the transaction and if, as her aunt suspected, hetreated her less kindly than she deserved to be treated, he mightthen get the whole sum out of her gentle hands. But on this particularevening Thomasin was at Mistover, and anything might be conveyed toher there without the knowledge of her husband. Upon the whole theopportunity was worth taking advantage of.

Her son, too, was there, and was now married. There could be no moreproper moment to render him his share of the money than the present.And the chance that would be afforded her, by sending him this gift,of showing how far she was from bearing him ill-will, cheered the sadmother's heart.

She went upstairs and took from a locked drawer a little box, out ofwhich she poured a hoard of broad unworn guineas that had lain theremany a year. There were a hundred in all, and she divided them into twoheaps, fifty in each. Tying up these in small canvas bags, she went downto the garden and called to Christian Cantle, who was loitering about inhope of a supper which was not really owed him. Mrs. Yeobright gavehim the moneybags, charged him to go to Mistover, and on no accountto deliver them into any one's hands save her son's and Thomasin's. Onfurther thought she deemed it advisable to tell Christian preciselywhat the two bags contained, that he might be fully impressed with theirimportance. Christian pocketed the moneybags, promised the greatestcarefulness, and set out on his way.

”You need not hurry,” said Mrs. Yeobright. ”It will be better not to getthere till after dusk, and then nobody will notice you. Come back hereto supper, if it is not too late.”

It was nearly nine o'clock when he began to ascend the vale towardsMistover; but the long days of summer being at their climax, the firstobscurity of evening had only just begun to tan the landscape. Atthis point of his journey Christian heard voices, and found that theyproceeded from a company of men and women who were traversing a hollowahead of him, the tops only of their heads being visible.

He paused and thought of the money he carried. It was almost too earlyeven for Christian seriously to fear robbery; nevertheless he tooka precaution which ever since his boyhood he had adopted whenever hecarried more than two or three shillings upon his person--a precautionsomewhat like that of the owner of the Pitt Diamond when filled withsimilar misgivings. He took off his boots, untied the guineas, andemptied the contents of one little bag into the right boot, and ofthe other into the left, spreading them as flatly as possible over thebottom of each, which was really a spacious coffer by no means limitedto the size of the foot. Pulling them on again and lacing them to thevery top, he proceeded on his way, more easy in his head than under hissoles.

His path converged towards that of the noisy company, and on comingnearer he found to his relief that they were several Egdon people whomhe knew very well, while with them walked Fairway, of Blooms-End.

”What! Christian going too?” said Fairway as soon as he recognized thenewcomer. ”You've got no young woman nor wife to your name to gie agown-piece to, I'm sure.”

”What d'ye mean?” said Christian.

”Why, the raffle. The one we go to every year. Going to the raffle aswell as ourselves?”

”Never knew a word o't. Is it like cudgel playing or other sportfulforms of bloodshed? I don't want to go, thank you, Mister Fairway, andno offence.”

”Christian don't know the fun o't, and 'twould be a fine sight for him,”said a buxom woman. ”There's no danger at all, Christian. Every manputs in a shilling apiece, and one wins a gown-piece for his wife orsweetheart if he's got one.”

”Well, as that's not my fortune there's no meaning in it to me. But Ishould like to see the fun, if there's nothing of the black art in it,and if a man may look on without cost or getting into any dangerouswrangle?”

”There will be no uproar at all,” said Timothy. ”Sure, Christian, ifyou'd like to come we'll see there's no harm done.”

”And no ba'dy gaieties, I suppose? You see, neighbours, if so, itwould be setting father a bad example, as he is so light moral'd. Buta gown-piece for a shilling, and no black art--'tis worth looking in tosee, and it wouldn't hinder me half an hour. Yes, I'll come, if you'llstep a little way towards Mistover with me afterwards, supposing nightshould have closed in, and nobody else is going that way?”

One or two promised; and Christian, diverging from his direct path,turned round to the right with his companions towards the Quiet Woman.

When they entered the large common room of the inn they found assembledthere about ten men from among the neighbouring population, and thegroup was increased by the new contingent to double that number. Most ofthem were sitting round the room in seats divided by wooden elbows likethose of crude cathedral stalls, which were carved with the initials ofmany an illustrious drunkard of former times who had passed his daysand his nights between them, and now lay as an alcoholic cinder in thenearest churchyard. Among the cups on the long table before thesitters lay an open parcel of light drapery--the gown-piece, as it wascalled--which was to be raffled for. Wildeve was standing with his backto the fireplace smoking a cigar; and the promoter of the raffle, apackman from a distant town, was expatiating upon the value of thefabric as material for a summer dress.

”Now, gentlemen,” he continued, as the newcomers drew up to the table,”there's five have entered, and we want four more to make up the number.I think, by the faces of those gentlemen who have just come in, thatthey are shrewd enough to take advantage of this rare opportunity ofbeautifying their ladies at a very trifling expense.”

Fairway, Sam, and another placed their shillings on the table, and theman turned to Christian.

”No, sir,” said Christian, drawing back, with a quick gaze of misgiving.”I am only a poor chap come to look on, an it please ye, sir. I don'tso much as know how you do it. If so be I was sure of getting it I wouldput down the shilling; but I couldn't otherwise.”

”I think you might almost be sure,” said the pedlar. ”In fact, now Ilook into your face, even if I can't say you are sure to win, I can saythat I never saw anything look more like winning in my life.”

”You'll anyhow have the same chance as the rest of us,” said Sam.

”And the extra luck of being the last comer,” said another.

”And I was born wi' a caul, and perhaps can be no more ruined thandrowned?” Christian added, beginning to give way.

Ultimately Christian laid down his shilling, the raffle began, and thedice went round. When it came to Christian's turn he took the box with atrembling hand, shook it fearfully, and threw a pair-royal. Three of theothers had thrown common low pairs, and all the rest mere points.

”The gentleman looked like winning, as I said,” observed the chapmanblandly. ”Take it, sir; the article is yours.”

”Haw-haw-haw!” said Fairway. ”I'm damned if this isn't the quarest startthat ever I knowed!”

”Mine?” asked Christian, with a vacant stare from his target eyes. ”I--Ihaven't got neither maid, wife, nor widder belonging to me at all, andI'm afeard it will make me laughed at to ha'e it, Master Traveller. Whatwith being curious to join in I never thought of that! What shall I dowi' a woman's clothes in MY bedroom, and not lose my decency!”

”Keep 'em, to be sure,” said Fairway, ”if it is only for luck. Perhaps'twill tempt some woman that thy poor carcase had no power over whenstanding empty-handed.”

”Keep it, certainly,” said Wildeve, who had idly watched the scene froma distance.

The table was then cleared of the articles, and the men began to drink.

”Well, to be sure!” said Christian, half to himself. ”To think I shouldhave been born so lucky as this, and not have found it out until now!What curious creatures these dice be--powerful rulers of us all, andyet at my command! I am sure I never need be afeared of anything afterthis.” He handled the dice fondly one by one. ”Why, sir,” he said in aconfidential whisper to Wildeve, who was near his left hand, ”if I couldonly use this power that's in me of multiplying money I might do somegood to a near relation of yours, seeing what I've got about me ofhers--eh?” He tapped one of his money-laden boots upon the floor.

”What do you mean?” said Wildeve.

”That's a secret. Well, I must be going now.” He looked anxiouslytowards Fairway.

”Where are you going?” Wildeve asked.

”To Mistover Knap. I have to see Mrs. Thomasin there--that's all.”

”I am going there, too, to fetch Mrs. Wildeve. We can walk together.”

Wildeve became lost in thought, and a look of inward illumination cameinto his eyes. It was money for his wife that Mrs. Yeobright could nottrust him with. ”Yet she could trust this fellow,” he said to himself.”Why doesn't that which belongs to the wife belong to the husband too?”

He called to the pot-boy to bring him his hat, and said, ”Now,Christian, I am ready.”

”Mr. Wildeve,” said Christian timidly, as he turned to leave the room,”would you mind lending me them wonderful little things that carry myluck inside 'em, that I might practise a bit by myself, you know?” Helooked wistfully at the dice and box lying on the mantlepiece.

”Certainly,” said Wildeve carelessly. ”They were only cut out by somelad with his knife, and are worth nothing.” And Christian went back andprivately pocketed them.

Wildeve opened the door and looked out. The night was warm and cloudy.”By Gad! 'tis dark,” he continued. ”But I suppose we shall find ourway.”

”If we should lose the path it might be awkward,” said Christian. ”Alantern is the only shield that will make it safe for us.”

”Let's have a lantern by all means.” The stable lantern was fetched andlighted. Christian took up his gownpiece, and the two set out to ascendthe hill.

Within the room the men fell into chat till their attention was for amoment drawn to the chimney-corner. This was large, and, in additionto its proper recess, contained within its jambs, like many on Egdon, areceding seat, so that a person might sit there absolutely unobserved,provided there was no fire to light him up, as was the case now andthroughout the summer. From the niche a single object protruded into thelight from the candles on the table. It was a clay pipe, and its colourwas reddish. The men had been attracted to this object by a voice behindthe pipe asking for a light.

”Upon my life, it fairly startled me when the man spoke!” said Fairway,handing a candle. ”Oh--'tis the reddleman! You've kept a quiet tongue,young man.”

”Yes, I had nothing to say,” observed Venn. In a few minutes he aroseand wished the company good night.

Meanwhile Wildeve and Christian had plunged into the heath.

It was a stagnant, warm, and misty night, full of all the heavy perfumesof new vegetation not yet dried by hot sun, and among these particularlythe scent of the fern. The lantern, dangling from Christian's hand,brushed the feathery fronds in passing by, disturbing moths and otherwinged insects, which flew out and alighted upon its horny panes.

”So you have money to carry to Mrs. Wildeve?” said Christian'scompanion, after a silence. ”Don't you think it very odd that itshouldn't be given to me?”

”As man and wife be one flesh, 'twould have been all the same, I shouldthink,” said Christian. ”But my strict documents was, to give the moneyinto Mrs. Wildeve's hand--and 'tis well to do things right.”

”No doubt,” said Wildeve. Any person who had known the circumstancesmight have perceived that Wildeve was mortified by the discovery thatthe matter in transit was money, and not, as he had supposed when atBlooms-End, some fancy nick-nack which only interested the two womenthemselves. Mrs. Yeobright's refusal implied that his honour was notconsidered to be of sufficiently good quality to make him a safer bearerof his wife's property.

”How very warm it is tonight, Christian!” he said, panting, when theywere nearly under Rainbarrow. ”Let us sit down for a few minutes, forHeaven's sake.”

Wildeve flung himself down on the soft ferns; and Christian, placing thelantern and parcel on the ground, perched himself in a cramped positionhard by, his knees almost touching his chin. He presently thrust onehand into his coat-pocket and began shaking it about.

”What are you rattling in there?” said Wildeve.

”Only the dice, sir,” said Christian, quickly withdrawing his hand.”What magical machines these little things be, Mr. Wildeve! 'Tis agame I should never get tired of. Would you mind my taking 'em out andlooking at 'em for a minute, to see how they are made? I didn't liketo look close before the other men, for fear they should think it badmanners in me.” Christian took them out and examined them in the hollowof his hand by the lantern light. ”That these little things should carrysuch luck, and such charm, and such a spell, and such power in 'em,passes all I ever heard or zeed,” he went on, with a fascinated gaze atthe dice, which, as is frequently the case in country places, were madeof wood, the points being burnt upon each face with the end of a wire.

”They are a great deal in a small compass, You think?”

”Yes. Do ye suppose they really be the devil's playthings, Mr. Wildeve?If so, 'tis no good sign that I be such a lucky man.”

”You ought to win some money, now that you've got them. Any woman wouldmarry you then. Now is your time, Christian, and I would recommend younot to let it slip. Some men are born to luck, some are not. I belong tothe latter class.”

”Did you ever know anybody who was born to it besides myself?”

”O yes. I once heard of an Italian, who sat down at a gaming table withonly a louis, (that's a foreign sovereign), in his pocket. He played onfor twenty-four hours, and won ten thousand pounds, stripping thebank he had played against. Then there was another man who had lost athousand pounds, and went to the broker's next day to sell stock, thathe might pay the debt. The man to whom he owed the money went with himin a hackney-coach; and to pass the time they tossed who should paythe fare. The ruined man won, and the other was tempted to continue thegame, and they played all the way. When the coachman stopped he was toldto drive home again: the whole thousand pounds had been won back by theman who was going to sell.”

”Ha--ha--splendid!” exclaimed Christian. ”Go on--go on!”

”Then there was a man of London, who was only a waiter at White'sclubhouse. He began playing first half-crown stakes, and then higher andhigher, till he became very rich, got an appointment in India, and roseto be Governor of Madras. His daughter married a member of Parliament,and the Bishop of Carlisle stood godfather to one of the children.”

”Wonderful! wonderful!”

”And once there was a young man in America who gambled till he had losthis last dollar. He staked his watch and chain, and lost as before;staked his umbrella, lost again; staked his hat, lost again; staked hiscoat and stood in his shirt-sleeves, lost again. Began taking off hisbreeches, and then a looker-on gave him a trifle for his pluck. Withthis he won. Won back his coat, won back his hat, won back his umbrella,his watch, his money, and went out of the door a rich man.”

”Oh, 'tis too good--it takes away my breath! Mr. Wildeve, I think I willtry another shilling with you, as I am one of that sort; no danger cancome o't, and you can afford to lose.”

”Very well,” said Wildeve, rising. Searching about with the lantern, hefound a large flat stone, which he placed between himself and Christian,and sat down again. The lantern was opened to give more light, and it'srays directed upon the stone. Christian put down a shilling, Wildeveanother, and each threw. Christian won. They played for two, Christianwon again.

”Let us try four,” said Wildeve. They played for four. This time thestakes were won by Wildeve.

”Ah, those little accidents will, of course, sometimes happen, to theluckiest man,” he observed.

”And now I have no more money!” explained Christian excitedly. ”And yet,if I could go on, I should get it back again, and more. I wish this wasmine.” He struck his boot upon the ground, so that the guineas chinkedwithin.

”What! you have not put Mrs. Wildeve's money there?”

”Yes. 'Tis for safety. Is it any harm to raffle with a married lady'smoney when, if I win, I shall only keep my winnings, and give her herown all the same; and if t'other man wins, her money will go to thelawful owner?”

”None at all.”

Wildeve had been brooding ever since they started on the mean estimationin which he was held by his wife's friends; and it cut his heartseverely. As the minutes passed he had gradually drifted into arevengeful intention without knowing the precise moment of forming it.This was to teach Mrs. Yeobright a lesson, as he considered it to be;in other words, to show her if he could that her niece's husband was theproper guardian of her niece's money.

”Well, here goes!” said Christian, beginning to unlace one boot. ”Ishall dream of it nights and nights, I suppose; but I shall always swearmy flesh don't crawl when I think o't!”

He thrust his hand into the boot and withdrew one of poor Thomasin'sprecious guineas, piping hot. Wildeve had already placed a sovereign onthe stone. The game was then resumed. Wildeve won first, and Christianventured another, winning himself this time. The game fluctuated, butthe average was in Wildeve's favour. Both men became so absorbed inthe game that they took no heed of anything but the pigmy objectsimmediately beneath their eyes, the flat stone, the open lantern, thedice, and the few illuminated fern-leaves which lay under the light,were the whole world to them.

At length Christian lost rapidly; and presently, to his horror, thewhole fifty guineas belonging to Thomasin had been handed over to hisadversary.

”I don't care--I don't care!” he moaned, and desperately set aboutuntying his left boot to get at the other fifty. ”The devil will toss meinto the flames on his three-pronged fork for this night's work, I know!But perhaps I shall win yet, and then I'll get a wife to sit up withme o' nights and I won't be afeard, I won't! Here's another for'ee, myman!” He slapped another guinea down upon the stone, and the dice-boxwas rattled again.

Time passed on. Wildeve began to be as excited as Christian himself.When commencing the game his intention had been nothing further thana bitter practical joke on Mrs. Yeobright. To win the money, fairlyor otherwise, and to hand it contemptuously to Thomasin in her aunt'spresence, had been the dim outline of his purpose. But men are drawnfrom their intentions even in the course of carrying them out, andit was extremely doubtful, by the time the twentieth guinea had beenreached, whether Wildeve was conscious of any other intention than thatof winning for his own personal benefit. Moreover, he was now no longergambling for his wife's money, but for Yeobright's; though of this factChristian, in his apprehensiveness, did not inform him till afterwards.

It was nearly eleven o'clock, when, with almost a shriek, Christianplaced Yeobright's last gleaming guinea upon the stone. In thirtyseconds it had gone the way of its companions.

Christian turned and flung himself on the ferns in a convulsion ofremorse, ”O, what shall I do with my wretched self?” he groaned. ”Whatshall I do? Will any good Heaven hae mercy upon my wicked soul?”

”Do? Live on just the same.”

”I won't live on just the same! I'll die! I say you are a--a----”

”A man sharper than my neighbour.”

”Yes, a man sharper than my neighbour; a regular sharper!”

”Poor chips-in-porridge, you are very unmannerly.”

”I don't know about that! And I say you be unmannerly! You've got moneythat isn't your own. Half the guineas are poor Mr. Clym's.”

”How's that?”

”Because I had to gie fifty of 'em to him. Mrs. Yeobright said so.”

”Oh?... Well, 'twould have been more graceful of her to have given themto his wife Eustacia. But they are in my hands now.”

Christian pulled on his boots, and with heavy breathings, which could beheard to some distance, dragged his limbs together, arose, and totteredaway out of sight. Wildeve set about shutting the lantern to return tothe house, for he deemed it too late to go to Mistover to meet his wife,who was to be driven home in the captain's four-wheel. While he wasclosing the little horn door a figure rose from behind a neighbouringbush and came forward into the lantern light. It was the reddlemanapproaching.